


tag, you're it

by CassandraStarflower



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: (offscreen) - Freeform, Amnesia, Kidnapping, Multi, Non-Graphic Rape, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape, Rewrite of “grabbed my hand”, Stalking, also a new comment on the old version of this, ive been watching too much buzzfeed unsolved and got inspired, richie gets fucking kidnapped it’s rough, which was shitty frankly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2020-11-09 06:57:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20849351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassandraStarflower/pseuds/CassandraStarflower
Summary: A bright spring afternoon, nothing out of the ordinary. Until Richie Tozier doesn’t come home.Three months later, he reappears, with no memory of where he’s been.Now, it’s time for his family and friends to band together, pick up the pieces, and find out what happened to him.And someone’s waiting in the shadows.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story a while back, entitled “grabbed my hand pushed me down (took the words right out my mouth)”, but promptly abandoned it due to how terrible it was. A recent comment by a guest calling themself Charm5, however, inspired me to try rewriting this. So welcome to “tag, you’re it”, a new and hopefully improved kidnapping fic!   
This story is marked “mature” due to mature concepts. There will not be any graphic rape or non-con scenes.   
Title is obviously from the song Tag, You’re It by Melanie Martinez.   
Also, I will be deleting the old version after posting this one, so please, please, please, don’t go looking for it. Please.

It was a bright spring afternoon and Richie Tozier was fucking bored. His bike chain had broken three days ago and he’d accepted rides home from various Losers for the past three days. Unfortunately, none of them could drop him off today, so he had to walk the whole way home. 

Which sucked. 

And it was boring, too, without anyone to talk to or anything to do. 

He zoned out, wandering down the sidewalk and thinking about a hundred different things at once. 

The arcade gleamed up ahead and Richie reminded himself that he didn’t have any quarters and forced himself to walk past, moving a little slower and wishing he could play Street Fighter. 

A person stepped out of the alleyway and grabbed Richie’s arm. 

“What the fuck?” he demanded, trying to pull free. “Let me go!” 

There was no one outside. No one nearby. Richie couldn’t help but feel as though this was planned. 

The man smiled, showcasing yellow teeth with a single gold fake. 

He had a rag in his hand. 

He pressed it over Richie’s nose and mouth and Richie tried to hit him, only to be bundled back against the man and pinned in place, unable to breathe except through the rag, which  _ stunk _ , and his vision was black around the edges and he couldn’t think straight and

\---

Three months. 

_ Three entire months _ . 

Three months of no news, no leads, no nothing. 

Of course, the Derry police were useless, but even the State Troopers and the detective the Toziers had hired had gotten nowhere. 

Richie had just…  _ disappeared _ . They knew he’d been at school, they knew he’d left with the others and split off from them where he usually did. 

No one knew what had happened next. He just hadn’t come home. 

The police questioned them, the state troopers questioned them, the private investigators questioned them. 

_ No, he wasn’t acting different.  _

_ He was the same as always.  _

_ He didn’t have any friends from out of state. _

_ He didn’t tell us of any plans to run away.  _

_ He wasn’t having any trouble at school or at home.  _

_ He was acting normal.  _

_ Nothing was wrong.  _

With no indications that he’d run away, everyone assumed that he had been kidnapped. The disappearances in Derry had ended a solid eight months ago when Bowers had been arrested, so Richie’s case wasn’t tied to any others at the moment. 

For three months, the Losers all stopped by the Tozier house after school, asking if anything new had happened. 

For three months, the Toziers looked desperately for their son. 

For three months, Richie was missing. 

\---

Maya Dober had lived in Bangor all her life, and often drove to Portland to visit her sister and her nieces and nephews. She was coming back from doing just that, driving along the freeway, not another car in sight, when she saw the boy. 

He was wandering barefoot along the side of the road, wearing ratty clothes that were much too big for him, looking dazed and confused. She immediately braked and pulled over, concerned. 

And once she got closer, she realized that this boy had been on the news. A missing kid from nearby Derry. 

Maya rolled her window down and called to him. “Hey! Kid!” 

He whipped around, stumbling painfully over his scratched and filthy feet, and stared at her, wide-eyed. 

“It’s okay!” she called. “You’re Richie Tozier, right? I saw you on the news.” 

He blinked and nodded, cautiously. She couldn’t blame him. He was in  _ bad _ shape. 

“Why don’t you, uh, get in the passenger seat and I can take you to the hospital?” 

“Which one?” he asked, inching toward the car. She unlocked the door.    
“Bangor Liberty.” she answered. 

He tentatively opened the door, eyeing her with suspicion, and she did her best to appear as non-threatening as possible. 

Maya sighed with relief when the kid slid into the car and closed the door. He stayed close to the door, as far away from her as he could get, probably afraid that she might just take off with him. 

She left the passenger door unlocked, hoping that would calm him somewhat, and drove to the hospital. 

\---

Richie had no fucking idea what was happening. He had woken up, or become aware of his surroundings, in the woods somewhere, and had wandered for a while before finding the road. Everything hurt and he was afraid to check and find out  _ why _ some specific places hurt or why there was dried blood under his fingernails or where the bruises all were. 

He really,  _ really _ hoped this lady was actually taking him to the hospital. 

The trees passed by in a blur and he watched the scenery go past. Trees tapered off and buildings took their places, more and more buildings. The car stopped at a red light and Richie blinked, suddenly and unnervingly aware of how zoned out he had been. 

He turned his head a little, trying not to move too much. Why was he so sore? What the  _ fuck _ had happened? How had he ended up in the woods near the freeway outside Bangor? The last thing he remembered was walking past the arcade on his way home. 

The car pulled into the hospital parking lot. 

\---

Maggie Tozier was sitting next to the phone, the TV on, news playing, a book on her lap. 

She wasn’t reading. 

This was her usual behavior for the past three months since her son had disappeared. 

Occasionally the phone would ring- it was never what she wanted to hear. Telemarketers, scammers, friends and neighbors checking in. Never a call from authorities, never a call from, perhaps somehow, Richie himself. 

The news sometimes did a Missing Persons segment which included Richie. No new information. Never any new information. It was like he’d just vanished off the face of the earth. 

Maggie listlessly turned the page. The phone rang. She reached over and lifted it to her ear. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello, have I reached the Tozier residence?” a woman’s voice asked. 

“Yes, this is Maggie Tozier speaking.” 

“Your son was admitted to Bangor Liberty Hospital fifteen minutes ago.” 

Maggie’s eyes widened. “Richie? At- at- in Bangor?” 

“Yes.” The woman sounded sympathetic. “If you and your husband could come here-” 

“Yes, we’ll be there!” Maggie rushed out, barely aware of her own actions, heart pounding as she hung up and tossed aside the book, rushing to put her shoes on and screaming for her husband. 

Went rushed down the stairs. “Maggie, what the hell’s going on?” 

“Richie’s been admitted to a hospital in Bangor!” Maggie shouted, already opening the door. Went froze, then raced after her. 

\---

Maya was sitting in the waiting room, since the police still needed to take her statement about finding Richie Tozier. She had been sitting here for close to half an hour now, waiting, when an anxious couple that she recognized vaguely from the news burst in and rushed to the receptionist’s desk. 

“Hi, are you here to visit someone?” the receptionist asked politely, looking somewhat unnerved by the couple’s manic energy.    
“We got a call that our son was here!” the woman said breathlessly. “Richie Tozier?” 

“Oh!” the receptionist said, surprised. “I’ll get the doctor down here.” 

Both Tozier parents were practically vibrating with anxiety, holding hands tightly and watching the receptionist pick up the phone and call. 

The doctor came down and guided them into another room, with an officer. 

“How is he?” Maggie demanded, panicked. 

The doctor pressed her lips together briefly. “He’ll recover. But- there’s no easy way to say this, Mr. Tozier, Mrs. Tozier. He was raped.” 

Maggie gasped softly and Went’s jaw clenched. 

“Multiple times, I believe.” the doctor went on. “There’s a lot of physical trauma.” 

Maggie straightened her shoulders, glancing at the police officer who was sitting in the room. “And who did it?” 

“We don’t know.” the officer replied, looking to the doctor. 

The doctor sighed. “I did ask a few questions that we’re required to ask. He didn’t know the answers. Sometimes, with extreme trauma, the mind attempts to protect itself. In other words, his memories of the past three months appear to be repressed. There may be other explanations, but that’s the most common one.”

Maggie nodded, shoulders tense. “Can we-can we see him?” 

“Of course.” the doctor replied, rising to her feet. “Follow me.”

\---

Richie was curled up on a hospital bed, head spinning with the new information. 

One single question had thrown him way off, leaving him bewildered. 

_ “Where have you been for the past three months, Richie?”  _

_ “Three months? It hasn’t been three months.” _

He’d been missing for  _ three fuckin’ months _ . And he had no idea where he had been or what even had happened. 

The door opened behind him and he turned, tensing. His parents stood in the doorway, wide-eyed. 

“…Mom? Dad?” Richie asked. 

Maggie let out a sob and rushed to the bed, throwing her arms around her son. After a moment, Richie wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her shoulder. 

\---

Yesterday, the Losers had stopped by the Tozier house to find that no one was home. Today, they could see a car in the driveway and headed straight up to the front door. 

Bill knocked and Maggie answered the door, smiled, and said, “He’s home.” 

“Richie? He’s back?” Eddie asked, eyes widening. 

Maggie nodded, still smiling, tears in her eyes. “Want to see him?” 

“Yes!” they chorused. 

She led them inside and upstairs, to where Richie was curled up on his bed. He turned when the door opened and blinked, before breaking into a grin. “Hey, guys.” 

“Richie!” Eddie made straight for the bed and hugged his best friend tightly. Richie wound his arms around Eddie, burying his face in Eddie’s shoulder, still smiling, as the other Losers climbed onto the bed and joined in the hug. 

This was good. Even if he couldn’t remember what had happened, this was good.


	2. isn't it lovely (all alone)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Stan build a puzzle, Maggie thinks, and a surprise waits at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! It’s also pathetically short, sorry. Literally less than 800 words. I just couldn’t get more out and wanted to reassure everyone that this story is not abandoned.

It was a pretty good day. Stan had come over after school and they were lying on Richie’s bed, putting together a bird puzzle. This was one of Stan’s favorite activities and one of the few times Richie stayed somewhat still and quiet. 

Richie was quiet a lot more often lately. 

Stan didn’t like that. For all the Losers  _ talked _ about wanting Richie to shut up, him actually shutting up was just… disturbing. 

It was probably something they should have expected after what Richie had been through- something so bad he couldn’t remember it. 

Worse than It. 

Richie idly twirled a puzzle piece between his fingers and Stan quietly put a different piece into place. 

After a few moments, Stan realized that Richie wasn’t doing anything with the piece he was holding, just twirling it with a blank look on his face. 

“Richie?” 

Richie dropped the puzzle piece, startled. “Huh?” 

Stan reached out and picked up the piece. “You seemed zoned out.” 

“… oh.”

“You okay?” 

Richie frowned down at the puzzle. “Dunno.” 

Stan briefly pressed his lips together and leaned against Richie gently, putting the puzzle piece into the right spot. Richie pressed his shoulder against Stan’s. 

It had only been a month since Richie had reappeared, and he hadn’t started going to school again yet. Honestly, given how close they were to the end of the school year, it was probable that Richie just wouldn’t go to school again until next year. 

Stan was pretty sure that Richie didn’t  _ want _ to go to school yet. 

Richie picked up another puzzle piece and started scanning the puzzle, somewhat absently. He was like that a lot lately. Stan didn’t like it. But again, it was expected. 

“I hate this.” Richie said suddenly, dropping the puzzle piece. 

“What?” Stan asked, startled. 

“I hate not  _ remembering _ . I hate it.” Richie said, and his voice was suddenly choked. Stan took Richie’s hand, not knowing what else to do. 

Richie squeezed Stan’s hand, hard, shoulders starting to shake. He was clearly trying very hard not to start crying. 

Stan hated this. He hated not being able to  _ help _ . 

\---

Maggie was talking to Andrea, downstairs. It had been hard since Richie had disappeared, and now at least  _ part _ of the uncertainty was gone, since they knew he was alive, and basically what had happened to him, but… 

Richie’s memory was still gone. The doctor had told them not to expect it to come back. There was nothing they could do. They couldn’t find the person who had done this to Richie. 

It was awful. Of course Maggie was incredibly grateful that Richie was alive and safe, but not knowing who had done it… knowing that the kidnapper could come back at any time… 

It was awful. 

Honestly, Maggie was so glad that Richie’s friends were coming over every day, spending time with him, trying to help him heal. That was good. And their parents were coming over some, too. Mostly. She was glad that Sonia Kaspbrak had apparently decided to stay away, since she couldn’t stand the woman. 

And Sonia couldn’t stand her. 

Maggie probably wouldn’t have been able to hold it together without the support of Andrea and Donald, and the Denbroughs, and some of the other parents that had come by while Richie was missing and were still occasionally coming by. 

She knew Wentworth was equally grateful for the support. And Richie was so happy to see his friends every time they came over… if it weren’t for them coming over he wouldn’t have much company, since Maggie and Went weren’t yet willing to let him leave the house, and Richie didn’t seem to want to leave either. 

But still. Maggie knew that the kidnapper was still out there somewhere. 

\---

It had been a little over a week since the brat had knocked him over the head with a lamp and escaped. He knew from the news that the little shit had made it to civilization and gotten back to his parents, and that pissed him off. 

The only good news was that the police hadn’t come knocking at his door yet. That meant that maybe the kid hadn’t turned him in. Once he got his hands on that little fucker, he would go a little easier on him for not tattling on him to the cops. 

But Richie Tozier would  _ fucking pay _ for hitting him like that. 

He would  _ fucking pay _ . 

The man whose identity remained unknown to everyone else involved smiled. His one golden tooth glinted in the bathroom light as he finished changing the bandages on his forehead. 

_ I’ll fucking kill him.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so fucking short, I’m sorry. I hope you all enjoyed this!

**Author's Note:**

> I think this is much better than the old version. It’s also much longer, so there’s that.   
Again, I will be deleting “grabbed my hand” within a few hours of posting this.   
Please comment or leave kudos!


End file.
